


Illusions

by laireshi



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5315429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Was everything a lie, Hissrad?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illusions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Comicsohwhyohwhy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicsohwhyohwhy/gifts).



> Thanks for beta to [Comicsohwhyohwhy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/comicsohwhyohwhy/). It's all her fault, anyway.

It might be a terrible idea—no, it certainly _is_ a terrible idea. 

He takes a swig from the bottle in his hand. Good wine, too good to be wasted like this, because he's certainly not up to appreciating it now. He's not even sure which bottle he's on. He still feels too sober. It still hurts.

Another swig, and oh, he's reached his destination, the entrance to the palace cells in front of him.

There are guards. Of course. Which title should he invoke to get past them? The Tevinter ambassador? The Inquisitor's friend?

_I let the prisoner fuck me for years_ won't get the door open, he doesn't think.

"I'm not letting him out," he says, "but I will burn the door down if you don't let me in."

They're straightening. "Divine Victoria!"

He doesn't care what Leliana said. He has to see Bu—Hissrad. He has to. But the guards are looking behind him, and—

"Lord Pavus," Divine Victoria says in her soft voice. Dorian turns to face her.

Leliana is supposed to be a friend. But he doesn't trust spies, not anymore. Certainly not the ones who should be on his side. He's learnt that lesson now.

"Let me in," he says.

She looks at him with something like pity, and he hates it. Wonders why he isn't locked up in a cell of his own. It's not as if their _relationship_ wasn't common knowledge. Do they all just think he was too stupid to notice anything? Pathetic enough to believe Hissrad's lies, even—especially—whispered against his naked skin?

"Why?" Leliana asks. It's not a no, which is more than he expected.

"I need—"

Nothing he can get there, he knows. Nothing he can get anywhere, anymore. But he has to try. It'd been three years. He called him _amatus_. He has to—he has to ask—he drinks again under her watchful gaze.

"Well," she says. "We want some answers, too."

"I won't play your interrogator," Dorian snaps.

She smiles. "Of course not."

He should be afraid of her, probably. He should turn around and leave, not get pulled into another game. That would be the wise thing to do.

He's too drunk for that. Still more sober than he'd like to be.

Leliana looks at the soldiers behind him. "Let him in," she says.

Dorian doesn't thank her.

He walks in the moment the heavy door is opened; passes a row of empty cells. There are more guards stationed in front of the last cell, but they leave as he walks in. Probably at some other signal from the Divine herself.

Dorian drinks again.

"You shouldn't be here, kadan," Hissrad says even before Dorian reaches his cell. He sounds exactly the way he did two days ago, waking Dorian up before their final journey through the eluvians. Smiling at him. _Caring_.

No.

Dorian wants to scream. "Because I should be dead in Darvaarad, you mean?" he asks instead, finally coming to a halt in front of the last cell. Hissrad's sitting on a narrow bench. The ceiling is low; he probably can't stand there. He always complains at tiny human quarters.

Dorian doesn't care.

"You'll only hurt yourself, kadan."

"That's your job, isn't it," Dorian snaps.

"Kad—"

"Don't call me that!" he screams.

"It's who you are."

"Says the liar. Maker, it's your very name, and I trusted—" he cuts himself off, looks around, anything to avoid Hissrad's eyes.

The one good thing Tevinter taught him, _never trust a Qunari_ , and Dorian had to discard that. Hissrad told him he was a spy. He told him there was no love under the Qun. But Dorian chose to ignore that, and chose to trust him when he said _kadan_ instead; good fucking job, Pavus, everything for the illusion of love.

"Should I say this part was true? Which would you prefer?" Hissrad's voice doesn't betray any emotions.

"Stop pretending anything has ever been about what _I_ want," Dorian snaps. "So what was it—Tevinter altus, a useful connection? Not as useful as a magister, certainly; was it you who killed my father?" His voice breaks. His eyes are burning.

Hissrad shakes his head. "Lucky coincidence."

Dorian takes in a slightly hysterical breath. Everything is too sharp. He wants it to stop. He drinks more. It doesn't help.

"Was everything a lie, Hissrad?"

Why is he even asking? He can't trust any word Hissrad says. 

Dorian throws the bottle at the wall. It shatters, and it would be so easy to lift one shard, slice his wrist with the sharp edge, make Hissrad honest with his blood if nothing else will work.

So easy . . . but he won't give Hissrad the satisfaction of breaking even in that way.

"No," Hissrad finally says and hesitates, and Dorian says, "katoh!", but Hissrad doesn't stop talking, his voice lower now, "kadan."

Dorian stumbles, catches himself on the wall, slides to his knees. "I hate you," he whispers, and hates himself for how weak he is.

"Who's the liar now, Dorian?"

Dorian should leave, but it's too late to save his pride anyway, and maybe if he stays near Hissrad long enough things will start to make sense again; Bull was always so good at explaining—Bull never really existed, did he, Dorian fell in love with an act.

Hissrad moves, gets down from the bench to sit on the floor almost at the bars, at Dorian's level. He's now close enough that Dorian could touch him if only he reached out.

He tells himself he's not tempted. He looks down.

He's not sure how long he kneels there, staring at the cold stone floor, before he hears the door open and someone pulls him up. "Leave me," he says, almost without thinking.

"Not a chance, Dorian," Cassandra replies. "Leliana shouldn't have—" she stops herself. "Come on. Varric finished his new book. He's going to read fragments. Can be nice."

He lets himself be dragged out, because apparently he's not in charge of his own life anymore.

As if he ever was.


End file.
